


american pie

by sidnihoudini



Series: Fork and Knife [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6835174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidnihoudini/pseuds/sidnihoudini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is his shit, right here.  He hasn’t been in Boston since Christmas, and now he gets a little over a week to eat, fuck, and watch Patriots games at his leisure.  It’s hard to think of anything he’d rather be doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	american pie

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo I don't even know how this happened. I decided to watch The Winter Soldier on Netflix last week and now here we are after mainlining Marvel movies for 5 days and watching a thousand interviews on YouTube.

“Babe,” Chris calls over his shoulder, concentration still mostly funnelled into the frying pan he’s holding in one hand over the stove top.

On the counter sits a plate stacked with the three grilled cheese sandwiches he’s already made so far. It’s taken about ten minutes to create this cheesy tower of perfection - he thinks if he keeps this up, he might even become a regular homemaker.

There’s the distinct sound of something hitting the hardwood floor in the other room, before the bathroom tap turns on and then off again. Chris flips the last sandwich he’s making, waits another beat, and then yells, “BABE!”

“ _WHAT_?!” Comes the immediate response, deep from within the other side of the house.

Chris laughs, entertained by Sebastian’s reaction, and flips the last grilled cheese onto the plate.

He sets the pan back down on the oven burner, switches the gas off, then yells, “Food!”

There’s one last muffled thump before Sebastian appears in the hallway that connects the back half of the apartment to the living room and kitchen. Seb is fully dressed, after spending the majority of the morning in his underwear complaining about Boston traffic.

“I thought we were going out for food,” Seb says, confused, as he crosses the bare floor in his socks.

Shrugging, Chris separates the sandwiches onto two plates, then sucks the resulting crumbs from the pad of his thumb.

“Game’s on now,” He explains, turning slightly as Seb comes to stand beside him at the counter. He smiles and manages to get a kiss to Seb’s cheekbone before he hands the plate over, and adds, “Seven hours of live streaming. Thank god for RedZone.”

Seb makes a vaguely agreeable noise, neither for nor against the NFL Network, and then opens his mouth wide enough to fit the majority of one half of his first sandwich inside.

He makes a ‘huh, good’ face, and starts walking towards the couch.

“Can we take half-time to fuck or something?” Seb asks, dropping into one corner of the sofa, legs spread wide.

Chris grabs two cans of beer from the fridge, and hands Seb one over the back of the sofa before doubling back for his food. He laughs as he steps over the back of the couch from behind, settling in beside Seb easily.

He can feel Seb watching the side of his face as he rips a piece of his sandwich in half, dips it in his ketchup, and then shoves it in his mouth.

“No halftime in a Sunday game,” He teases, mouth full. Half his mouth curls up into a smile when Seb makes a face at him mid-bite.

Seb manages to chew and swallow before he replies, “ _I’ll_ dance for you, whatever you want.”

“Hey, you can’t take that back,” Chris warns, laughing. He leans forward at the hip to set his beer on the table, and then crack the can open one-handed.

They eat the rest of their meal with most of their attention trained on the ten minute long block of TV commercials in front of them. The TV, by the way, is _obscenely_ huge, and - most importantly - a fresh Amazon purchase. Chris bought it as a fancy treat for himself on the first day of his pseudo staycation, which is really just a fancy word for “not actually working for 8 days _in a row._ ”

Content, Seb sets his plate on the coffee table and then chugs half his beer, making a happy ‘ah’ sound when he’s done. Chris laughs and elbows him a little when he pauses to let out a loud, long burp, clearly pleased with himself as he rests one arm along the back of the couch behind Chris’ shoulders and smiles.

“You sleep better last night?” Chris asks curiously, chewing on his last bite of sandwich as he looks at Seb curiously.

They’re both adjusting to the time difference between the last leg of promo and home. Even though that’s something Chris has managed to get better at over the years, it still leaves Seb with huge dark bangs hanging heavy beneath his eyes, and a general sleepiness that trails around behind him.

Chris, on the other hand, usually strongarms himself into sleeping for about seventeen hours, and then begins chugging coffee from the moment his alarm goes off. Seb could have been up tap dancing at the foot of their bed all night and Chris would have been too KO’ed to care.

“One more night and I should be fine,” Seb promises, leaning to take the empty plate from Chris’ hands. He reaches forward and slides it on top of his, making a face at the gross ketchup streaked everywhere, and then stretches out over Chris’ lap instead.

Chris holds his beer up to Seb won’t bottle tap the bottom with his head, and then kicks his bare feet up onto the coffee table. Comfort. By the time Seb is done situating himself, he’s got the back of his head in Chris’ lap, and his heels kicked up against the arm of the couch.

“We need a bigger couch,” Chris grins, fingering Seb’s hair.

Frowning, Seb makes a disgruntled noise and says, “Whaddya mean, this one’s the perfect size.”

“Maybe if we both lost a foot,” Chris murmurs, happy to bicker until his attention is pulled back towards the TV coming back from commercial.

This is his shit, right here. He hasn’t been in Boston since Christmas, and now he gets a little over a week to eat, fuck, and watch Patriots games at his leisure. It’s hard to think of anything he’d rather be doing.

Seb rolls over to grab his phone from the coffee table, expression still relaxed and a bit sleepy as he settles into a game of Plague.

This, Chris could do for a very long time. Maybe forever. Probably forever. It's as close to forever as Chris has knowingly been so far.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short "trying to figure out how to write them" type deal. I read a billion Bucky/Steve stories that I thought got them bang on, but I couldn't find a RPS fic that nailed Chris and Sebastian down as the weirdos I think they both are.
> 
> I might write more of this! In the mean time, I hope you like what I have so far :)


End file.
